Meng Fuyuan didn’t stay too long. After Chen Qingwu’s emotions improved, he took his leave.

No matter how legitimate the reason, being alone with his younger brother’s girlfriend at night invited suspicion.

After tidying up and washing, Chen Qingwu went to lie down on the bed.

She picked up her phone and sent Meng Qiran a message:

Just remembered I have to meet a client tomorrow, so I can’t go shopping. You should head back to South City early. Rest well after the race is over.

This message received a reply half an hour later—just one word: “Okay.”

She thought Meng Qiran must feel relieved.

After lying there for a long time, she still had no desire to sleep.

Chen Qingwu got up, threw on a jacket, walked to the outer work area, and turned on all the lights.

From an old freezer Teacher Qian had left behind, she took out stored clay, wiped down the work table and rotating platform, and began kneading and shaping the clay.

A pottery wheel was more efficient, but the process of hand-molding allowed her mind to empty—she could think of nothing at all.

/

Meng Qiran was sleepless all night.

The next morning he set out and returned to South City.

Qilin was quite surprised by her son’s early return. “Didn’t you say you’d keep Qingwu company during the day and arrive tonight?”

Meng Qiran tossed his backpack on the sofa. “Didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going to catch up on sleep. Don’t call me for lunch, Mom.”

Qilin was startled, because it was rare to see Meng Qiran with such a gloomy expression.

She didn’t ask more, just told him to rest well.

Meng Qiran slammed his room door and flung himself on the bed.

He raised his arm to cover his forehead. After pausing a moment, he turned his head to look at that glass-fronted wooden display cabinet.

A pure, beautiful water cup sat quietly under the light.

He looked at it, hoping he could fall asleep quickly.

It wasn’t until evening that Meng Qiran came downstairs for dinner.

South City didn’t ban motorcycles. He went to the garage and casually mounted a Ducati X-Diavel, put on his helmet, and headed out.

Brushing past the lights along the road one by one, passing intersection after intersection, he drove toward the mountains.

Wind roared past his ears.

Speed swift as flight, as if he wanted to use it to erase that scene under the lights last night—when he’d avoided that kiss, Qingwu’s incredulous, wounded gaze.

The lights gradually became sparse and scattered, the forests on both sides growing denser.

After rounding bend after bend, suddenly a vast expanse of night sky appeared above the tree line.

He pressed the brake, realizing the mountain peak’s endpoint lay ahead.

/

Several days later, Chen Qingwu went with Meng Fuyuan to visit the tea room’s owner, her first client.

It had rained early that morning, and the world was shrouded in white mist.

Meng Fuyuan drove into the park and from a distance saw Chen Qingwu standing by the roadside holding a transparent umbrella.

Under a tan work-style short trench coat was a white T-shirt, black casual pants with rolled-up cuffs, mid-top black Converse canvas shoes on her feet, and a black nylon bag slung diagonally across her shoulder.

This simple, efficient outfit had a somewhat boyish air.

Chen Qingwu spotted the car and immediately raised her hand to wave at him.

Meng Fuyuan exhaled deeply and slowly, as if only this could suppress the highly inappropriate clamoring in his heart.

Chen Qingwu closed her umbrella and opened the car door. “The umbrella…”

“Put it in the back seat.”

Chen Qingwu placed the umbrella and sat in the passenger seat.

The enclosed car immediately filled with a light, delicate fragrance—like orange blossoms in mist, carrying a slightly bitter greenness.

“Actually I could have just taken the subway myself. There’s a station near the park,” Chen Qingwu said.

“It’s fine.”

That place wasn’t directly accessible by subway—after getting off you’d still need to take a taxi, and with today’s rain, it wouldn’t be very convenient.

Of course, these were all excuses.

Meng Fuyuan glanced at her, withdrew his gaze, and started the car.

Her expression was peaceful, no longer showing that night’s desolation. Presumably the conflict with Qiran had been resolved.

Young people were like this.

If the two of them had reconciled, he could be at ease.

Chatting casually, the car arrived at the tea room’s location.

Halfway up a mountain, they had to walk five minutes after parking.

The rain had stopped, but mist still lingered.

Moss grew thickly, sprouting from the crevices between stone steps.

Chen Qingwu walked ahead. Every few steps upward, she’d hear Meng Fuyuan remind from behind: “Watch your step—it’s slippery.”

The tea room was hidden among bamboo groves. At a glance, the lush emerald green seemed ready to drip.

As the bamboo curtain lifted, the fragrance of tea smoke wafted toward them.

Chen Qingwu followed behind Meng Fuyuan, passing through a corridor of black stone slabs to the innermost section.

A quiet room with floor-to-ceiling glass windows burned no incense. The faint lingering fragrance was perhaps left from entertaining the previous tea guest.

After taking seats in bamboo chairs by the window, Meng Fuyuan made a phone call.

Before long, someone came to knock.

Meng Fuyuan: “Come in.”

Chen Qingwu turned to look. Two people stood at the door—a man and a woman. The man appeared around Meng Fuyuan’s age, the woman looked older, probably over forty-five.

The man spoke first with a laugh: “So when President Meng said he had matters today, he meant running off to drink tea? Caught in the act.”

Meng Fuyuan’s expression remained unchanged as he introduced them to Chen Qingwu: “Sister An, the owner here. Pei Shao, founding partner, my undergraduate classmate.”

Sister An smiled at Chen Qingwu: “How should I address you?”

“I’m Chen Qingwu. Sister An, just call me Qingwu.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Pei Shao sat down across from them. Sister An fetched tea ware and began heating water.

Chen Qingwu looked at the stove. “Is this the Yiyun Teapot designed by Mr. Chen Jingliang?”

Sister An immediately smiled. “Yes. Seems Miss Chen is truly knowledgeable.”

Pei Shao asked: “Isn’t this just an ordinary purple clay teapot? What’s special about it?”

Before Chen Qingwu could speak, Sister An couldn’t help interjecting, barely restraining an eye-roll. “This pot is far more ingeniously designed than ordinary purple clay teapots. Lift it and water pours automatically, tilt the body ninety degrees and the lid won’t fall. When there’s plenty of water it releases steam from the spout when boiling, when there’s little water it releases steam from the handle when boiling… These details—you won’t understand if you don’t make tea.”

How could Pei Shao withstand this barrage from Sister An? He raised his hands in surrender: “I was wrong, I’m the ignorant one.”

As the water was about to boil, Sister An asked: “What kind of tea does Miss Chen like best?”

Chen Qingwu smiled: “I only understand a little about ceramics, not much about tea. I relatively prefer black tea.”

Sister An nodded: “Black tea isn’t as astringent.” As she spoke, she selected a tea canister from the tray.

Chen Qingwu observed that the tea Sister An brewed for them used different tea leaves, with slight variations in water temperature and technique—clearly customized based on everyone’s preferences.

As tea came to hand, Chen Qingwu lowered her eyes and took a small sip. “Is this Jin Jun Mei?”

Sister An said: “I knew Miss Chen was being modest when she said she didn’t understand tea—you identified it in one sip.”

Chen Qingwu said: “…I only know those few varieties of black tea. I was guessing randomly.”

Sister An laughed heartily. “…Little sister, you’re quite honest.”

Meng Fuyuan glanced at Chen Qingwu upon hearing this.

At that moment Sister An’s phone rang. She looked at it. “You all sit tight, I’ll step out to take a call.”

Chen Qingwu took two sips, gently set down the teacup, raised her head, and looked directly across. “Mr. Pei has been staring at me. Do you have some guidance to offer?”

Pei Shao wasn’t embarrassed at all, laughing: “I was just looking around. My apologies for the rudeness.”

The mountains were exceptionally quiet—only the sound of raindrops falling from bamboo leaves could be heard.

Pei Shao said casually: “Finally get some free time, but then feel anxious about having free time.”

Chen Qingwu glanced at Meng Fuyuan. “Your cooperation with SE is already finalized?”

Meng Fuyuan hadn’t expected Chen Qingwu to remember this. “Still discussing details. Once finalized we can sign the contract.”

Pei Shao said: “Mainly the research has hit a snag.”

“How so?”

Meng Fuyuan raised his eyes. Seeing her genuinely inquiring expression, he explained in the most accessible terms: “Some component materials aren’t up to standard—strength and precision can’t both be achieved simultaneously.”

Chen Qingwu nodded thoughtfully.

After a moment, Sister An returned to the tea room, now carrying a small bamboo basket.

The basket was lined with blue cloth, topped with various pastries.

After Sister An sat down, they entered the formal tea ware customization discussion phase.

Chen Qingwu asked: “What kind of tea ware would you like? Do you have a general expectation in mind?”

“I can’t really say… The only thing is I don’t want a matching set. Too formal and a bit boring.”

Chen Qingwu nodded, then said: “What aspect of tea would you most like to express? For instance, white porcelain is suitable for appreciating color…”

“No white porcelain, too boring.”

Chen Qingwu pondered a moment. “Do you have any taboos about which teacup to use with which tea?”

“No taboos at all. It’s just drinking tea—why so many rules? When I want to drink, I could use a rice bowl.”

Chen Qingwu smiled: “Then I have a general idea of what you want.”

Sister An said eagerly: “Tell us.”

Chen Qingwu shook her head. “Allow me to keep it mysterious. When it’s fired I’ll bring it over for you to see. If you don’t like it, we’ll discuss then.”

Sister An smiled at Meng Fuyuan. “This young friend of yours has quite a personality. I like her very much.”

Meng Fuyuan lowered his eyes to sip his tea, not responding.

Of course—who wouldn’t like her?

After finishing tea, it suddenly began pouring rain again.

Sister An said in that case, they should eat before leaving.

More tea was served, casual conversation filled the time, and as noon approached, Sister An invited everyone to move to the dining room.

The walk there included an outdoor corridor section where rain and mist brushed their faces.

Meng Fuyuan listened to rain beating tree branches, silently thanking this weather for keeping him and Qingwu here.

Lunch was simple and rustic, mountain-style fare.

Chen Qingwu noticed that on the table, the dish holding mashed yam was a blue-glazed plate—seemingly the very one Teacher Qian had asked Meng Fuyuan to fetch.

So this was where it ended up.

The kitchen had a traditional earthen stove with sweet potatoes buried in the fire pit. By the time the rice was cooked, the sweet potatoes were also roasted.

The sweet potatoes were unpeeled and smelled enticing. Chen Qingwu reached to take one—fresh from the stove, it was very hot. She withdrew her hand and pinched her earlobe, planning to let it cool before peeling it.

Sister An across the table served vegetables while asking Chen Qingwu: “I heard from Fuyuan that your favorite ceramic artist is called Du Furen? I don’t know much—what are the distinctive features of his work?”

Chen Qingwu was slightly startled.

In fact, even Meng Qiran might not remember clearly who her favorite ceramic artist was.

She set down her chopsticks and smiled: “I like Mr. Du Furen’s philosophy of pottery-making. The purpose of vessels themselves isn’t fixed—for instance, a plate can be a flower vessel if it holds flowers, a food vessel if it holds food, a decoration if hung on a wall. He likes using deep, rich glazes to create objects that are simple and substantial, with a feeling like ‘the heavy sword has no edge’ from martial arts novels…”

Her final word’s intonation lightened, because she glimpsed Meng Fuyuan moving a porcelain bowl to within her reach.

The bowl contained two peeled sweet potatoes.

His movement was as casual as if he were simply reaching for a chicken wing from a distant plate for her at a family dinner—not particularly attention-drawing.

Sister An listened with great interest. “This philosophy quite suits my taste too.”

Chen Qingwu collected herself and nodded. “Du Furen’s studio is called ‘Nirvana Orchid Retreat,’ all Buddhist terminology. His pottery-making is somewhat influenced by Buddhist thought.”

Sister An asked with a smile: “What’s your studio called?”

“Me? Well…” Chen Qingwu said somewhat embarrassedly, “I feel like a studio name is like a martial arts alias. I don’t deserve one yet.”

“But when you eventually sell things you make yourself, you’ll need a name.”

“I’ll think about it slowly.”

Sister An smiled: “Let’s brainstorm together and help you think of one.”

Chen Qingwu also smiled: “Sure.”

Because she’d been talking with Sister An the whole time, Chen Qingwu hadn’t touched her chopsticks.

Meng Fuyuan noticed and spoke up: “How are your child’s study abroad application preparations going?”

Sister An said: “Don’t even mention it…”

Chen Qingwu was naturally extracted from the conversation.

She picked up her chopsticks and first reached for the sweet potato in the bowl by her hand.

After the meal, the rain had lightened and everyone prepared to descend the mountain.

Sister An asked Meng Fuyuan to wait, saying she had something for him.

Chen Qingwu went with Pei Shao to wait under the entrance corridor.

Pei Shao looked at Chen Qingwu and said with a smile: “I was really presumptuous earlier, my apologies. I was just a bit curious about your relationship with Meng Fuyuan.”

Chen Qingwu smiled: “Our two families are longtime friends.”

“Oh, childhood sweethearts.”

“…” Thinking carefully, from a broad perspective, this description wasn’t exactly wrong.

Chen Qingwu felt Pei Shao was rather familiar by nature, but familiarity had its advantages. “Does Mr. Pei know what he usually needs?”

“Want to give him a gift?”

Chen Qingwu nodded.

Pei Shao thought for a moment. “A girlfriend?”

“…”

Pei Shao laughed: “Just joking. If I had to say, Old Meng did mention before wanting to commission a tea set for the company, specifically for entertaining important guests.”

Chen Qingwu’s heart stirred.

She always felt Meng Fuyuan had helped her a great deal recently and didn’t know how to repay him. Firing a tea set to give him seemed very appropriate.

“What kind of tea leaves does your company generally use to entertain guests?”

“The company isn’t particular, but I know Old Meng has a personal preference. What he drank today is it.”

“What is it?”

Pei Shao looked at her, his smile meaningful:

“A type of green tea. Called Mist-Shrouded Green.”